The Yale Collaborative on Social Entrepreneurship encourage me to craft my Obituary.
Bely the everyday.
How far have you come?
Memorialize where you come from hence.
I will leave you then, and Her, a discernable gift.
Death hearkens only the dying in glory and quietness shocks only the person whose breath is taken in deep.
Your morphine and your needles hanging from my forearm kills me not.
Your guns kill me not.
Your pills do not take my breath away.
Your words do. They hurt.
I have known the thrill of Her at least. My arm and my body shake from the electricity coursing through me touching live wire.
She is incomparable and I die for her. Walking the desert step by step, heat dizzying, relentless. My mouth is dry. Overwhelmingly the heat scrapes my throat and my voice is scratchy.
I wait until the last breath. On bended knee.
Oh yea, mine eyes have seen the glory.
Yes, yes, she said.